


Songs to the Other Side

by spacetrek



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, does the title make sense?? barely but it's late and i really should be doing a research paper, feat. an original musician character because i love those random third-person narratives, unbeta'd as always so i apologize in advance for some of the messier bits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27127345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacetrek/pseuds/spacetrek
Summary: She wasn’t scared of Batman, exactly.  She hadn’t done anything worse than take a magazine from the doctor’s office that she could remember, and she was mostly sure that Batman didn’t just go around punching random people.Mostly.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54





	Songs to the Other Side

She was going to die.  
  


She’d been in Gotham city for two hours and she was going to _die.  
  
_

The crime rate was astronomically high in Gotham City, everyone knew that, but Cayla wasn’t going to bite it because she’d been attacked or mugged or captured by one of those brightly-dressed clowns.  
  


No, the _car rental agency_ had collapsed on her, and now she was trapped in a cramped tumble of creaking, shifting building materials.  
  


Her fault for stopping at a place that looked more like a warehouse than a business.  
  


A soft scuff sounded in the dusty dark.  
  


Cayla held her breath.It might have been her imagination.  
  


No—there it was again.  
  


“Hello?Is someone there?”  
  


The scuffing stopped.A black boot appeared in her little viewport — a gap in the crumbled wood and masonry — and the wearer crouched to look inside.   
  


Oh.  
  


Cayla wasn’t _scared_ of Batman, exactly.She hadn’t done anything worse than take a magazine from the doctor’s office that she could remember, and she was mostly sure that Batman didn’t just go around punching random people.  
  


Mostly.  
  


Still, he was her best — maybe only — chance to get out of here.  
  


“Are you hurt?”His voice was low and steady.In the dark, all she could see of him was the outline of his shoulders and the white lenses over his eyes.  
  


“I’m stuck.” _I am_ not _going to hyperventilate; I will_ not _have a panic attack in front of Batman—  
  
_

“All right.”His voice was surprisingly soothing.It could just be the adrenaline.“This whole thing is structurally unstable — the building should have been torn down years ago.”He muttered something under his breath.It sounded like _told them._ “We’re too far inside for me to risk moving anything.It could bring what’s left down on top of you and me and anyone else trapped in here.”  
  


Cayla hadn’t thought about the others that could be stuck.She felt selfish, even as she told herself tunnel vision was normal in a situation like this.Still:“Do you—"She swallowed.It stuck in her throat.“Do you need to go find those other people?”  
  


“I’ve already recovered the ones close to the exits.”Batman shifted, cape settling around him.Down on his haunches, he looked more like a gargoyle than a bat.“My backup will take care of the rest, and then he’ll come for you.”  
  


“He knows I’m here?”  
  


“He knows I’m here.”Batman sounded—amused?“And he’ll know I’m with someone.”His voice went serious again.“You’re going to be okay.”  
  


When Batman said it, it sounded like the truth, like it was going to happen just because Batman said it would.   
  


The wash of relief almost immediately turned into delayed hysteria.  
  


She really was going to have a panic attack in front of Batman.  
  


“Hey.Hey!”Batman’s voice sounded very far away.“Listen to me.What’s your name?”  
  


It took far too long for her to gasp, “C-Cayla.”  
  


“All right.Cayla, I need you to listen to me.I know you can’t see me very well, but I’m right here.Are you listening?”She nodded.“Good.I’m going to count, and you’re going to breathe.”  
  


Cayla managed a few gulping breaths with Batman counting them off.“That’s it,” he said.“That’s better.”  
  


She brushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes and forced herself to keep breathing steadily.“Th-thanks.I’m sorry.”  
  


“Don’t be.You’re holding up remarkably well, all things considered.”  
  


Cayla scooted over to her window.She could see Batman a little better now — he’d moved closer.“I—I don’t suppose you have any water.”  
  


A pause.“I do not.”A longer pause.“There might be some water pipes that still work, but I wouldn’t trust them.”  
  


“That’s fair.”Cayla spent about five seconds deliberating her next question, then went for it.“Can we talk?”  
  


“About what.”  
  


“I don’t know.Anything.”She’d already flipped out in front of Batman.Rock bottom was here and she was sitting on it.“How’s your day going?”  
  


“Better than yours, probably.”  
  


And that was kind of mean, yeah, but it was also the funniest thing she’d heard in a while.The laugh got caught on the lump in her throat, but it was real enough.“Probably.”She let her head rest carefully against the wall.She couldn’t possibly get any dustier.“I just wanted to rent a car, you know?I didn’t want to bring mine to Gotham because, uh—"  
  


“You didn’t want it to get stolen.”  
  


Maybe the building would fall on her and spare her this moment.  
  


It did not.“Yeah.”  
  


“Understandable.”Batman didn’t sound offended.Praise be.  
  


“I just needed to get to the theater.”  
  


“You’re an actress?”  
  


“No, I, uh, I play the violin.There’s a fundraiser the day after tomorrow.At least, there was supposed to be.”  
  


“I’m sure the managers will understand if you need a few days off.”  
  


“I didn’t put a clause about having a building fall on me in my contract.”  
  


“An oversight on your part, but I’m sure there’s something in there about injury.If you—"he broke off.  
  


“Batman?”  
  


Batman had turned away from her.He was talking, low and rapid, but not to her.“Yes, I—I’m _fine,_ I’m in here with—no, this is not like the last time I said I was fine.I am actually fine.Uh huh.I’m in here with someone who is considerably less fine, so maybe you should make an appearance.That is not true.Batman out.”His head tipped in her direction.“That was my backup.He’s on the way.”   
  


A creak, a thump, and a new silhouette appeared beside Batman’s.This one was just as recognizable.  
  


Cayla was pretty sure her mouth was hanging open.She was definitely sure she didn’t care.  
  


“Everyone else is out,”Superman said, addressing Batman.Then: “Hey.What’s your name?”  
  


It took Cayla a moment to realize that he was talking her her, and another moment to realize he was mostly out of view and probably looking at her through the wall.“Uh—Cayla.”  
  


“She’s a violinist,”Batman said, apropos of nothing.  
  


“Really?”Superman sounded genuinely impressed.“Well, Cayla the violinist, it looks like the floorboards above you are structurally unimportant enough to get you out through there.”  
  


Cayla squinted at said floorboards.They looked like they’d fall on her if she breathed too hard.“You want me to break them and climb out?”  
  


“No!I’m coming around to get you. _Don’t move._ ”Superman disappeared.  
  


“He’s taking the long way to avoid smashing anything,”Batman said into the silence that followed.“It’s an impulse I wish he’d have more often.”  
  


Cayla suddenly had a thought.“Superman is your _backup?_ ”  
  


“Did he say I was his backup?”  
  


Cayla clutched at her chest.She wasn’t sure how many more shocks her heart could take tonight.“Are you _serious_ _._ ”  
  


“Sorry, sorry,”Superman said, and she thought he meant it.He dropped down beside her, tossing away a handful of twisted floorboards.“I’m not his backup.”  
  


“Well one of us has to be the backup.”  
  


“If I’m the backup, and you’re the backup, who’s driving the car?”   
  


“Me.”  
  


“You ran three red lights in five minutes last week.”  
  


“Yes, but I meant to do that.”  
  


“We’re going to revisit why intending to do something does not, in fact, make it better, but—may I?”Superman was talking to her again.She didn’t know what he was asking, but she nodded anyway.Anything to get out of here.  
  


She still yelped embarrassingly when he picked her up.  
  


“Sorry,”he said again.“You good?”  
  


“Sure.”She was, mostly.  
  


Flying with a person who ignored gravity the way her most people ignored telemarketers was easily one of the ten most bizarre things Cayla had ever done.  
  


 _He’s really fit,_ offered the fraction of her mind that wasn’t occupied with how thirsty she was or how much she still kind of wanted to scream.  
  


She told that part to shut up.  
  


Batman was no longer present when Superman set her down, safe and sound.Cayla looked at every dark corner, every motionless shadow, but he was well and truly gone.  
  


“Yeah, he does that.”   
  


Cayla’s neck cracked when she spun to look at Superman.“You can read minds, too?”  
  


He laughed.It was probably the nicest sound she’d heard in a while.“No, I can’t read minds.I’ve just had this conversation with a lot of people.”  
  


“He does this a lot?Just—disappears?”  
  


“All the time.”Superman sounded kind of irritated, but mostly fond.It was a strange combination.  
  


“You guys are friends?”

  
A smile.“Yeah.”  
  


“Okay.Uh, if you could tell him—" she picked at the ragged edge of her sleeve, feeling her cheeks burn and wishing there was some way to keep Superman from seeing it.“Just tell him I said thank you.”  
  


Superman’s smile was a little softer, quieter.He didn’t mention how red her face must be.“I’m sure he knows, but I will.”  
  


“Thanks.”  
  


“Come on.”Superman put a gentle hand on her shoulder, steering her down what was left of a moldy hallway.“Emergency responders are outside — you’ll be okay with them.”  
  


He didn’t leave until she assured him she was all right.  
  


*****  
  


Cayla played at the fundraiser the next night, as originally planned.  
  


It felt like defiance, like letting that bastard fate know with every singing note that he hadn’t gotten her yet.  
  


It was definitely too warm to be wearing long sleeves, but it was that or bruises.She wasn’t upset about them or anything, but people should be focusing on the music, not on her, and that would be difficult if she looked like someone had gone at her with a baseball bat.Though that might be normal in Gotham. She wouldn't rule it out at this point.  
  


That said, it was a fundraiser, so she was stuck glad-handing for half an hour afterward.It was a very long half an hour.She smiled and shook hands and was seriously considering making some excuse to leave when another theater-goer stepped into her space.  
  


“Cayla Larson?”She recognized him the moment before his introduction.“Bruce Wayne.”  
  


She took the proffered hand.It was rough and jarred considerably with the rest of his polished look.“Mr. Wayne.Thank you for coming out tonight.”  
  


“Of course.”He smiled.It was different than the ones she’d seen on magazine covers — a little smaller, a little crooked.She liked it better.“Thank _you_ for coming out tonight.There aren’t many people who do Paganini so well.”  
  


She was about to ask what other musicians he counted to his little Paganini club when she noticed they had a lurker.“Who’s your friend?”  
  


Wayne’s frown cleared when he turned to look.“Ah!”He raised his hand, a careless wave that morphed into a sharp ‘come here’ halfway through.The interloper rolled his eyes, but obediently ambled over.“Miss Larson, Clark Kent, reporter.Mr. Kent, Ms. Cayla Larson, violinist extraordinaire.”  
  


Cayla wasn’t quite sure what to make of Wayne’s showmanship, but Kent didn’t seem bothered.He offered her his hand.She took it.He had a good handshake — firm, but not in the way of men trying to impress.She thought she liked him already.  
  


“Ms. Larson,” he said, and tipped an invisible hat to her.She laughed.Definitely liked him.  
  


“Mr. Kent.”  
  


“Now that we’ve all been introduced,”Wayne said, “I wanted to tell you why I asked Mr. Kent to come to the show tonight.”  
  


“You play beautifully,”Kent added.  
  


“Doesn’t she?”For such a scattered man, Wayne’s focus was shockingly intent.“I heard about the accident last night.”  
  


“How—"  
  


“It was on a property that I’ve been eyeing for development.”Wayne made a dismissive gesture.“I won’t bore you with the details, but I’ve been trying to tear down those old buildings for years.They’re dangerous.”  
  


“I noticed.”  
  


“I’m sure.Anyway, local politics have been blocking me.I was hoping you would be willing to give Mr. Kent an interview about your experience.”  
  


“You want me to use my traumatic experience to help you get a property.”  
  


“Ms. Larson.”Kent shot Wayne an indecipherable look.“I know he said it in the worst way possible, but this could help people.Your testimony could be the push Gotham’s City Hall needs.You could stop it from happening to anyone else.”  
  


Damn his sincerity and big blue eyes.“Fine.”She pointed at Wayne.“You better build something worthwhile there.”  
  


“Low-rent housing,” he said immediately.Either he’d practiced this lie to perfection, or he was telling the truth.  
  


She really hoped he was telling the truth.“Could I mention this fundraiser, or should I stick to the, uh—the incident?”  
  


Wayne shrugged.“Oh, it’s not my interview.That’s entirely up to Clark.”He clapped Kent on the shoulder.Kent’s expression had gone vaguely long-suffering.   
  


“We’ll see where the story takes us, Ms. Larson,”Kent said.He was steadfastly ignoring Wayne, who had begun reading something on his phone while more or less leaning on Kent’s shoulder.Cayla’s estimation of him went up a few more notches.   
  


She still didn’t know what to make of Wayne, but she had only met him a minute ago, and she would probably never see him again anyway.  
  


Kent was handing her a page from his notebook with a couple phone numbers scribbled on it.“Here’s my work number, and my cell, in case you miss me.”Wayne lifted his head at the mention of the cell number, nose wrinkling.Kent continued to ignore him.  
  


“Thank you.”Cayla smiled, knowing it looked a little stiff around the edges.In her defense, she was very tired and a building had fallen on her yesterday.“I’ll call you tomorrow or the day after.If you’ll excuse me—?”  
  


“Of course.Sorry to keep you this long.”Kent smoothly reached to shake her hand without dislodging Wayne.  
  


Wayne, for his part, only lifted his eyes and flashed her a smile.  
  


“I’ll see you around Mr. Kent.”She nodded.“Mr. Wayne.”  
  


She heard Wayne say something as she left, and his voice — she thought—  
  


Kent’s answering laugh chased away whatever she thought about Wayne’s voice.  
  


It was one of the nicer sounds she’d heard tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> it has been.......fifty years..........I've missed these characters.  
> ANYWAY title was inspired by a line from "O.K. Fine" by Clover the Girl but it's far from exact.


End file.
